July  22,  1864. 


ADDRESS  OF 

JOSEPH  B.  GUMMING, 

AT  THE 

Unveiling  of  the  Monument 

TO 


Maj*  Gen'l  William  Henry  Talbot  Walker 


ON  THE 

BATTLE  FIELD  OF  ATLANTA, 


JULY  22,  1902. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016  with  funding  from 
Duke  University  Libraries 


https://archive.org/details/addressofjosephbOOcumm 


July  22,  1864. 


ADDRESS  OF 
JOSEPH  B.  CUMMING, 


AT  THE 

Unveiling  of  the  Monument 


TO 


Map  Gen'l  William  Henry  Talbot  Walker 


ON  THE . 


BATTLE  FIELD  OF  ATLANTA, 


JULY  22,  1902. 


Surely  this  is  a most  remarkable  occasion.  If  any  man  of  the 
thousands  assembled  on  this  field  38  years  ago,  had  ventured  to 
predict  what  we  now  see  with  our  eyes  and  hear  with  our  ears, 
the  apparently  rational  explanation  would  have  occurred  to  all 
who  heard  him  that  the  excitement  of  battle  had  affected  his 
brain  and  dethroned  his  reason — so  wild  would  have  seemed 
his  prophecy. 

What  are  the  salient  features  of  this  remarkable  occasion? 
The  men,  who  then  stood  apart  in  hostile  ranks,  united  here  in  a 
contest  as  to  which  will  do  the  greatest  honor  to  his  foeman 
of  that  dreadful  day.  The  gray  vying  with  the  blue  in  laying 
flowers  on  the  monument  of  the  brave  Federal  McPherson.  The 
blue  side  by  side  with  the  gray  to  unveil  a monument  to  the 
gallant  Confederate  Walker.  The  cannon,  the  characteristic 
feature  of  that  monument,  contributed  to  do  honor  to  Walker 
by  the  government  against  which  he  fought.  The  same  gov- 
ernment sending  a company  of  its  gallant  officers  and  men  to 
salute  the  unveiling  of  that  monument. 

What  a contrast,  too,  between  that  day  of  booming  cannon 
and  roaring  musketry,  of  smoke  and  bursting  shells,  of  blood 
and  passion  and  this  scene  of  peace  and  good  will  with  nothing 
in  the  air  more  deadly  that  the  rays  of  the  July  sun  and  no 
sound  more  discordant  than  the  rustling  of  the  leaves  in  the 
summer  wind. 

The  like  of  this,  so  far  as  I know,  has  never  occurred  in  his- 
tory, and,  as  I verily  believe,  could  not  happen  elsewhere  than 
in  this  wonderful  country,  which  the  greatest  war  in  history 
could  not  rend  in  twain. 

A short  sketch  of  the  man  whose  memory  we  are  seeking  to 
honor  this  day  will  probably  be  more  interesting  than  any  mere 
declamation  or  words  of  eulogy  of  the  present  speaker.  In 
presenting  such  sketch,  no  attempt  will  be  made  to  arrive  at  per- 
fect exactness  as  to  mere  dates. 

William  Henry  Talbot  Walker  was  born  in  Richmond  county, 
Georgia,  November  26,  1816.  He  was  the  son  of  Freeman 
Walker,  a distinguished  lawyer  and  a senator  of  the  United 
States.  He  graduated  at  the  West  Point  military  academy  in 
July,  1837.  The  following  Christmas  day  lie  was  borne  as  a 
dead  man  from  the  bloody  field  of  Okeechobee — that  fierce  bat- 
tle with  the  Indians  in  the  Everglades  of  Florida.  But  it  was 
not  written  in  the  Book  of  Fate  that  that  wiry  form  should  per- 


3 


ish  thus  early,  or  that  that  dauntless  spirit  should  be  dismissed 
from  its  earthly  career  by  the  bullet  of  the  Seminole.  While 
Ponce  de  Leon  had  vainly  sought  in  this  same  Land  of  Flowers 
for  the  Fountain  of  Youth,  there  seemed,  on  this  occasion  at 
least,  to  be  some  potent  life  preserving  quality  in  its  waters. 
This  brave  young  soldier,  being  carried  from  the  battlefield  to 
be  consigned  at  the  very  outset  of  his  career  to  a soldier's  grave, 
was  laid  by  his  bearers,  as  they  stopped  to  rest,  where  no  per- 
fectly dry  ground  was  to  be  found.  The  touch  of  the  water  of 
this  mysterious  fairy  land  set  that  gallant  heart  to  beating  once 
more. 

If  even  at  that  early  day  he  had  been  borne  to  a soldier’s 
grave,  he  had  achieved  enough  to  make  his  resting  place  worthy 
to  receive  such  a monument  to  his  memory,  as  now,  sixty-five 
years  later,  we  unveil  this  day.  But  instead  of  to  a glory- 
haunted  tomb,  he  was  borne  to  a bed  of  anguish,  where  that 
brave  spirit  wrestled  with  and  baffled  the  hand  of  death. 

Ten  years  later  we  find  him  in  Mexico.  Where  would  one 
look  for  Walker  in  the  day  of  battle?  Surely  in  the  forefront  of 
it — a place  where  his  superiors,  who  wished  daring  deeds  to  be 
done,  would  place  him  and  whither  his  own  gallant  spirit  would 
carry  him.  Here  again  his  career  seemed  to  be  closing  and  this 
day  to  be  rendered  impossible.  Hopelessly  wounded,  as  it  was 
thought  by  the  surgeons,  as  he  led  the  assault  at  Molino  del 
Rey,  it  seemed  that,  like  Lady  Macbeth,  “more  needed  he  the 
divine  than  the  physician.”  When  the  man  of  God  approached 
him  with  such  ministrations  as  alone  his  case  seemed  to  call  for, 
■our  hero  dismissed  him  not  irrevently,  not  disrespectfully,  but 
with  the  rational  purpose  of  concentrating  all  the  resources  of 
his  brave  spirit  upon  the  task  of  coming  up  again  from  the  jaws 
of  death.  And  then,  when,  in  his  own  opinion,  but  not  that  of 
his  surgeon,  he  had  sufficiently  recovered  for  the  attempt,  he 
commenced  that  long  retrograde  movement,  which  was  to  bring 
him  again  to  home  and  country.  And  so  this  young  captain, 
who  had  marched  gaily  and  gallantly  at  the  head  of  his  company 
from  the  sea  to  the  plateau  of  Mexico,  from  Veracruz  to  the 
ancient  capital  of  Montezuma,  retraced  his  steps,  stretched  on 
a litter,  keeping  a spark  of  life  aglow  by  his  unconquerable 
spirit  and  high  hopes  of  the  future. 

In  those  far  off  days  how  long'  and  how  weary  the  way  from 
Mexico  to  Albany  on  the  Hudson,  where  his  young  wife  awaited 
him!  How  meagre  the  means  of  transportation  of  those  times! 
How?  comfortless,  how  rough  compared  with  the  luxurious  ap- 
pointments of  todaj?!  No  comfortably  equipped  hospital  ships, 
no  smooth  running  ambulance  trains  then!  What  tempestuous 
tossings  on  the  Gulf!  How?  slowly  the  steamboat  labored  up  the 
Mississippi!  How?  descending  currents  retarded  the  progress 
of  the  wounded  man,  when,  leaving-  the  “Father  of  Waters,"  he 


4 


journeyed  eastward  up  the  Ohio!  How  many  weary  days  and 
weeks  before,  still  hovering  between  life  and  death,  loving 
hands  received  him  on  the  Hudson!  Even  then,  long  after  he 
had  reached  this  goal,  which  in  those  days  was  so  far  off,  his 
condition  was  precarious  and  his  sufferings  extreme.  But  still, 
in  spite  of  the  prophecies  of  the  surgeons,  he  would  not  die.  It 
was  left  for  two  bullets  through  the  heart  seventeen  years  later 
to  quench  that  dauntless  spirit  here  on  this  hallowed  spot. 

But  while,  as  1 have  said,  there  remained  to  him  seventeen 
years  of  life — and  a part  of  them  the  most  active  and  the  most 
glorious — he  never  recovered  from  the  shock  of  the  desperate 
wounds,  whose  scars  he  bore  to  the  grave.  Those  of  us  who 
recall  his  erect  and  spirited  figure,  whether  on  foot  or  on  horse- 
back, remember  how  attenuated  it  was,  how  frail  it  seemed  to 
be,  and  how  it  was  a never  ending  marvel  to  us  that  he  wras 
capable  of  so  much  exertion  and  fatigue.  And  those  of  us  near- 
est to  him  knew  what  a martyr  he  was  to  several  phases  of  bodi- 
ly suffering. 

During  the  twelve  or  thirteen  years  between  his  recovery 
from  his  Mexican  wounds  and  the  outbreak  of  the  Great  War, 
he  was,  when  his  health  permitted,  on  the  active  list  of  the 
United  States  army.  His  most  conspicuous  tour  of  duty  dur- 
ing that  period  was  as  commandant  of  the  corps  of  cadets  at 
West  Point  during  the  years  1854,  1855  and  1856.  The  election 
of  Lincoln  found  him  major  and  brevet  lieutenant  colonel.  On 
the  happening  of  that  event,  believing  that  war  rvas  inevitable, 
he  resigned  from  an  army,  which  he  foresaw  would  be  used 
against  his  people.  He  was  at  that  time  at  his  home  on  an 
indefinite  leave  on  account  of  his  shattered  health.  When  the 
state  of  Georgia  seceded,  there  being  at  that  time  no  Southern 
Confederacy,  he  offered  his  service  at  once  to  the  great  war 
governor  of  Georgia,  the  father  of  the  gentleman,  to  whom  is 
due  the  credit  of  this  occasion.  Gov.  Brown  proceeded  immed- 
iately to  raise  two  regiments  of  infantry,  to  the  command  of  one 
of  which  he  appointed  Colonel  Walker  and  to  the  other  Colonel 
Hardee.  When,  however,  a few  weeks  later  the  Confederacy 
was  formed,  both  these  veteran  soldiers  offered  their  services  to 
that  government.  I pause  here  in  this  narrative  to  say  that  the 
two  contemplated  Georgia  regiments,  which  I have  mentioned, 
were  consolidated  into  one,  which  achieved  a glorious  record  in 
the  army  of  Northern  Virginia  as  the  First  Georgia  Regulars. 

His  offer  of  his  services  to  the  Confederacy  was  met  with  the 
tender  of  a colonelcy.  This  he  considered  not  commensurate 
with  his  record  and  reputation  as  a soldier,  and  it  was  declined. 
The  Confederate  government  soon  took  the  same  view  and  ten- 
dered him  a brigadier-generalship,  which  he  accepted.  He  as- 
sumed command  of  a brigade  composed  of  Louisiana  troops  in 
the  Army  of  Northern  Virgina,  and  soon  brought  it  to  a high 


5 


state  of  discipline  and  devotion  to  him.  In  December,  1861,  the 
Confederate  war  department,  following  out  a policy  of  brigading 
together  troops  from  the  same  state  and  appointing  over  them  a 
brigadier  from  the  same  state,  took  the  Louisiana  brigade  from 
General  Walker  and  assigned  to  its  command  the  president’s 
brother-in-law,  General  Richard  Taylor.  In  an  impulse  of  dis- 
appointment and  indignation  General  Walker  resigned  his  com- 
mission. 

At  that  time  Governor  Brown  was  organizing  for  the  defense 
of  Savannah  a division  of  three  brigades  of  excellent  troops. 
The  division  commander  was  already  appointed,  or  doubtless 
that  position  would  have  been  offered  to  General  Walker.  He 
was  given  a brigade  which  he  accepted.  But  the  passage  of  the 
conscript  act  in  April,  1862,  dissolved  this  division,  and  he  was 
again  out  of  service,  and  so  continued  until  February,  1863. 

Thus  a great  war  raged  around  him  without  any  participation 
in  it  by  him  for  nearly  a year.  During  this  period  of  inaction 
the  battles  around  Richmond,  Second  Manassas,  Sharpsburg 
and  Fredericksburg  had  been  fought  by  the  Army  of  Northern 
Virginia,  and  Perryville  and  Murfreesboro  by  the  Army  of  Ten- 
nessee. Those  who  knew  well  our  hero  can  imagine  how  that 
fiery  spirit  chafed  against  this  inaction.  The  sound  of  battle  in 
his  ears  and  he  pursuing  the  ways  of  peace!  Human  nature  is 
radically  the  same  in  all  ages,  and  doubtless  in  that  home  on  the 
Sand  Hills  there  was  a repetition  of  the  inner  life,  the  chafing, 
the  rage,  the  restlessness,  the  unsuccessful  search  for  justifica- 
tion of  his  inaction  in  real  or  fancied  wrongs,  which  three  thous- 
and years  before  were  compassed  by  the  tent  of  Achilles,  raging 
against  his  treatment  by  Agamennon.  To  our  hero  it  was  an 
intolerable  situation.  A war,  in  which  his  beloved  country  was 
in  a death  grapple,  and  he  a soldier  by  nature,  by  taste,  by  edu- 
cation and  experience  taking  no  part  therein!  Feeble  health 
and  a frame  shattered  by  the  wounds  of  two  wars 
furnished  to  his  knightly  soul  no  good  reason  why  he 
should  not  be  at  the  front.  So,  repressing  his  sense  of  the  in- 
justice done  him,  he  again  offered  his  sword  to  his  country.  He 
was  immediately  re-appointed  to  a brigadier-generalship.  This 
was  in  February  or  early  March,  1863.  It  was  at  this  time  that 
my  association  with  him  in  military  life  began.  I was  ordered 
from  other  fields  to  report  to  him  as  his  brigade  adjutant.  Now, 
nearly  40  years  thereafter,  at  a time  of  life  when  one  expects 
little  of  the  future  and  turns  with  anxious  inquiry  to  the  past  to 
find,  among  its  vicissitudes,  its  errors,  its  failures  and  its  disap- 
pointments, peradventure  at  least  here  and  there  some  firm 
ground,  where  the  spirit  may  encamp  with  satisfaction,  I look 
back  on  that  association  as  one  of  those  cherished  resting 
places.  I cannot  refrain  from  so  much  of  egotism  as  will  voice 
the  deep  satisfaction  I feel  in  knowing  and  remembering  that 


6 


from  the  day  I reported  to  him  until  the  words  of  respectful  re- 
monstrance, which  I addressed  to  him  a short  half  hour  before 
this  spot  received  his  blood,  I enjoyed  his  friendship  and  his 
entire  confidence  in  camp  and  field. 

His  rank  of  brigadier  was  of  short  duration.  In  a few  weeks, 
on  the  application  of  General  Joseph  E.  Johnston,  to  whom  he 
had  reported  and  between  whom  and  himself  there  continued  to 
the  last  the  closest  friendship,  he  was  promoted  major  general. 

In  the  Chicamauga  campaign  he  commanded  the  Reserve 
Corps  of  the  Army  of  Tennessee.  When  the  generalship  of 
Rosecrans  deranged  Bragg’s  plan  of  battle,  this  corps,  intended 
to  be  kept  in  reserve,  was  the  first  to  be  attacked  in  an  isolated 
position,  and  for  hours,  Saturday,  September  19,  1863,  bore  with 
Forest’s  cavalry  the  brunt  of  the  fierce  and  bloody  battle,  but  held 
its  ground  until  reinforcements  arrived  and  the  new  order  of  bat- 
tle was  inaugurated.  On  the  reorganization  of  the  army  at  Dal- 
ton in  January,  1864,  he  resumed  command  of  his  division. 

It  is  not  my  purpose  to  follow  our  departed  friend’s  career 
day  by  day  and  movement  by  movement  during  the  arduous 
campaign  of  the  summer  of  1864,  in  the  midst  of  which  he  ren- 
dered up  his  life.  What  more  I have  to  present  to  you  in  the 
way  of  narrative  shall  be  confined  to  the  twenty-four  hours, 
whose  end  was  marked  by  his  fall  on  this  very  spot,  the  morn- 
ing of  the  22d  of  July  of  that  summer. 

General  Hood  in  his  book  "Advance  and  Retreat”  says  that 
Hardee’s  Corps  was  selected  for  the  main  attack  of  that  day, 
because  among  other  reasons,  after  the  battle  of  Peachtree 
Creek  on  the  20th,  it  was  fresh  and  unfatigued.  How  different 
from  this  view  is  my  vivid  recollection  of  that  night  march  from 
the  line  of  the  creek  through  Atlanta  and  then  south  to  the  posi- 
tion where  we  were  to  reach  the  left  flank  and  rear  of  the  federal 
army.  How  many  miles  of  that  weary  march  I slept  in  my  sad- 
dle! How  many  better  men  fell  literally  out  of  the  ranks  having 
first  fallen  asleep!  One  incident  in  the  early  stages  of  the  march 
I would  recall : As  we  reached  Gen.  Hood’s  headquarters  at  the 
Leyden  house  still  standing  on  Peachtree  street,  General  Walk- 
er dismounted  and  went  in.  In  a few  minutes  he  returned  full 
of  serious  enthusiasm.  He  told  me,  as  we  rode,  that  Hood  had 
earnestly  impressed  him  with  the  conviction  that  a battle  next 
day  was  necessary  to  prevent  the  immediate  fall  of  Atlanta,  and 
had  rapidly  unfolded  his  plan  and  the  arduous  nature  of  the 
undertaking.  That  was  enough  to  tone  the  noble  spirit  of  our 
hero  up  to  its  highest  pitch.  He  was  aglow  with  martial  fire 
from  that  moment  and  his  attenuated,  tireless  figure  sat  his  horse 
erect  all  through  that  weary  night,  and  his  uplifted  spirit  soared 
above  all  suggestion  of  fatigue  or  danger. 

I hasten  on_to  what,  relatively  to  this  occasion,  was  the  cul- 
minating event  of  the  day,  pausing  only  on  one  incident.  I have 


7 


spoken  of  a respectful  remonstrance  on  my  part  as  among  the 
last  words  which  passed  between  us.  When  we  had  filed  out  of 
the  road  on  which  we  had  been  marching,  and  formed  line  of 
battle  under  the  orders  of  the  corps  commander  to  do  so  and 
to  advance  in  line  in  the  direction  of  the  enemy,  I observed  a 
thick  tangled  briar  patch  in  front  of  one  of  our  regiments.  I 
called  General  Walker’s  attention  to  it  and  to  the  difficulty  of 
breaking  through  it  in  line  and  suggested  that  that  regiment 
should  pass  this  obstacle  in  the  movement  “by  right  of  com- 
panies to  the  front.”  He  approved  this  suggestion.  Any  other 
commander  of  his  rank  would  have  taken  the  discretion  to  mod- 
ify the  orders,  which  he  had  received,  in  this  small  particular. 
But  so  scrupulous  was  he  in  his  exact  obedience  of  orders  that 
he  would  not  make  the  change  without  the  corps  commander’s 
approval.  So  he  rode  up  to  General  Hardee,  who  was  near  by, 
and  began  to  state  the  situation.  Without  waiting  to  hear  him 
through,  General  Hardee  turned  roughly  and  rudely  upon  him 
and  said  loudly  in  the  presence  of  staff  officers  and  orderlies: 
“No,  sir!  This  movement  has  been  delayed  too  long  already. 
Go  and  obey  my  orders!”  Near  at  hand  then  was  the  hour 
when  he  should  fall  dead  from  his  saddle;  but  the  bullets  that 
pierced  that  proud  and  sensitive  heart  had  not  for  it  the  sting 
of  those  bitter  tones.  The  fiery  reply  rose  to  his  lips,  but  was 
checked  there,  but  the  fierce  glare  at  his  commander  was  not 
to  be  repressed.  He  saluted,  turned  his  horse  and  slowly  rode 
back.  As  we  rode,  he  said  in  tones  in  which  rage  and  self-con- 
trol contended,  “Major,  did  you  hear  that?”  I replied:  “Yes, 
General  Hardee  forgot  himself.”  He  answered:  “I  shall  make 
him  remember  this  insult.  If  I survive  this  battle,  he  shall 
answer  me  for  it.”  Our  line  soon  advancing,  some  order  to 
carry  or  other  exigency  took  me  for  a few  minutes  from  his  side. 
When  I returned,  he  told  me  that  a staff  officer  from  General 
Hardee  (I  think  it  was  Lieutenant  Colonel  Black)  had  just  come 
to  him  to  say  that  General  Hardee  regretted  very  much  his 
hasty  and  discourteous  language  and  would  have  come  in  per- 
son to  apologize,  but  that  his  presence  was  required  elsewhere, 
and  that  he  would  do  so  at  the  first  opportunity.  I said,  “Now. 
that  makes  it  all  right."  But  being  still  in  great  wrath,  he  said: 
“No,  it  does  not.  He  must  answTer  for  this.”  Then  it  was  that  I 
ventured  to  remonstrate  with  him  and  to  say  that  the  occasion 
called  for  other  thoughts.  It  was  enough.  At  once  everything 
was  forgotten,  except  the  requirements  of  the  hour.  The  whole 
man  was  once  more  only  the  patriot  soldier  and  the  zealous 
commander  wholly  devoted  to  the  duty  in  hand. 

Our  advance  through  the  woods  continued.  So  dense  was 
the  growth  that  it  was  impossible  in  places  for  each  brigade  to 
see  the  flank  of  its  neighbor  brigade,  and  thus  to  preserve  the 
proper  intervals  and  alignment.  To  meet  this  difficulty,  he  dis- 


8 


patched  three  of  his  staff,  Captain  Ross,  Captain  Troup  and 
myself,  one  to  each  of  the  three  brigades,  keeping  with  him  his 
volunteer  aid,  Captain  Talbot,  and  Lieutenant  Bass,  of  his  es- 
cort. It  was  but  a short  while  after  this,  before  the  batttle  was 
fairly  begun,  while  I was  conducting  to  the  best  of  my  ability 
Stevens’  brigade,  a courier  brought  me  the  intelligence  that 
General  Walker  had  fallen.  My  immediate  duty  was  to  find 
the  senior  brigadier,  General  Mercer,  and  report  to  him.  This 
I did,  and  from  that  moment  the  exigencies  of  the  battle,  which 
lasted  all  day  and  into  the  night,  demanded  my  poor  services  on 
the  field.  And  thus  it  happened  that  after  my  few  well  received 
words  of  remonstrance  and  his  brief  words  of  command,  never 
again  did  I look  upon  that  martial  figure  or  that  noble  counten- 
ance in  life  or  in  death.  Before  I left  that  field,  his  body,  bear- 
ing its  recent  wounds  and  the  scars  of  two  other  wars,  was  on 
its  way  to  its  resting  place  in  his  mother  earth,  which  never  took 
back  to  her  bosom  a nobler  son. 

What  manner  of  man  was  he,  whose  memory  we  are  honor- 
ing today?  I have  labored  in  vain  if  in  the  tedious  narrative  I 
have  given  you  I have  not  presented  his  career  in  such  a way 
as  to  enable  you  to  characterize  him.  What  can  any  feeble  word 
of  mine  add  to  the  facts  of  his  honorable  life  and  glorious 
death?  If  I tell  you  that  he  was  bravest  of  the  brave,  the  soul 
of  honor  and  generosity,  the  incarnation  of  truth,  the  mirror  of 
chivalry,  the  devotee,  I had  almost  said  the  fanatic,  of  duty, 
what  do  I say  which  his  life  and  death  have  not  proclaimed  with 
more  of  eloquence?  I who  knew  him  best  in  the  latest  and 
most  marked  period  of  his  life,  pronounce,  in  addition  to  all  I 
have  said  and  to  what  his  life  and  death  have  eloquently  pro- 
claimed, that  of  all  things  under  the  vault  of  heaven,  for  noth- 
ing, not  whistling  bullet,  nor  shrieking  cannon  ball,  nor  bursting- 
shell,  nor  gleaming  bayonet  had  he  any  fear — for  nothing  ex- 
cept one  thing — failure  to  obey  orders  to  the  letter  and  do  his 
soldierly  duty  to  the  uttermost.  Only  at  times,  when  unexpect- 
ed circumstances  rendered  impossible  the  literal  performance  of 
orders,  have  I known  anything  in  the  semblance  of  fear  to  ap- 
proach that  dauntless  soul. 

While  we  do  honor  this  day  to  him  who  stood  above  the 
ranks  as  leader,  let  us  not  forget  the  followers  who  fell  on  the 
same  field.  Not  less  worthy  were  they.  The  low  lying  valleys 
a.re  just  as  much  a part  of  this  beautiful  world  as  are  the  moun- 
tain peaks;  but  it  is  these  latter  which  are  glorified  by  the  rays 
of  the  morning  and  evening  sun.  And  so  it  is  a part  of  the  for- 
tune of  war  that  he,  who  by  merit  or  fortune  has  risen  high  in 
command,  draws  to  himself  the  fame  and  glory  which  brave  fol- 
lowers have  helped  him  to  win.  What  dangers  they  encounter- 
ed, how  hotly  his  division  fought,  will  appear  from  a few  simple 
facts.  On  the  20th  of  July  its  major  general  and  its  three  brig- 


9 


adiers  led  their  respective  commands.  By  eventide  of  July  22a 
the  major  general  and  one  brigadier  general  were  dead  on  the 
field  and  another  brigadier  general  grievously  wounded.  A few 
months  later  I saw  Gist,  one  of  these  brigadiers,  and  Smith,  who 
after  General  Stevens  was  killed,  July  20,  commanded  Stevens’ 
brigade  in  the  battle  of  the  22d,  dead  on  the  bloody  field  of 
Franklin.  Of  one  division  and  four  brigade  commanders,  all 
but  one  had  in  four  short  months  fallen  on  the  battlefield. 

Whatever  estimate  may  be  made  of  the  battle  on  this  spot 
thirty-eight  years  ago,  the  general  cause  in  which  we  fought  it 
was  lost.  Must  it  be  held,  therefore,  that  Walker  and  the  many 
other  brave  men  who  perished  in  it  gave  up  their  lives  in  vainr 
Is  it  true  that  there  is  no  good  thing  but  success?  Oh,  God  in 
heaven ! Is  it  permitted  that  men  shall  in  honest  devotion  to  a 
cause  and  in  the  noblest  spirit  of  self-sacrifice  endure  suffering 
and  surrender  life,  and  no  good  thing  spring  from  such  planting 
of  what  is  best  in  human  nature?  Are  the  noblest  deeds  and 
sacrifices  to  be  considered  wasted  unless  they  achieve  the  very 
thing  at  which  they  were  aimed?  Shall  courage,  patriotism, 
fidelity  to  convictions  be  pursued  even  unto  death,  and  no  fair 
flower  spring  from  such  precious  seed  unless,  peradventure, 
they  be  watered  with  what  short  sighted  mortals  call  success? 
To  each  of  these  questions,  had  I the  tones  of  Jove,  I would 
thunder  No!  and  that  negation  should  roll  through  the  empy- 
rean till  it  was  heard  of  all  people.  Nothing  worth  having 
comes  without  toil  and  sacrifice  more  or  less,  and  the  price  which 
a people  pay  for  glory,  for  the  respect  of  the  world  and  their  re- 
spect for  themselves  is  counted  in  tears  and  blood.  That  we  peo- 
ple of  the  South  have  presented  to  all  the  world  an  exhibition 
of  unsurpassed  courage,  energy,  devotion,  heroism  and  endur- 
ance, and  have,  though  failing  in  the  particular  objects  of  our 
efforts,  made  the  world  ring  with  our  praises;  and  especially  that 
we  have  acquired  for  ourselves  and  shall  transmit  to  our  pos- 
terity the  consciousness  that  we  were  capable  of  great  deeds  and 
untold  sacrifices,  that  we  have  heroic  memories  as  a people  in- 
stead of  a dull  record  of  commonplace,  commercial,  money-seek- 
ing history — these  precious  possessions  have  we  obtained  in  the 
only  obtainable  way,  through  tears  and  blood  and  wounds  and 
death. 

And  when  we  turn  from  this  general  view  to  the  contempla- 
tion of  the  particular  case  of  our  hero,  dare  we  say  that  he  was 
a loser  by  his  glorious  death?  “Duke  et  decorum  cst  pro  patria 
mori.”  The  prospect  of  failing  in  the  discharge  of  duty  on  the 
battlefield  is  ever  before  the  true  soldier,  until  it  comes  to  pass 
that  he  falls  in  love  with  that  picture  and  looks  to  it  as  the  fit- 
ting crown  of  his  career.  Lifting  our  eyes  from  this  little  span 
of  human  life  and  regarding  the  ages  which  will  roll  over  this 
imperishable  monument,  what  a gainer  he  was  by'  the  day  which 


10 


we  are  commemorating!  On  that  day  he  exchanged  for  what 
of  life  may  have  remained  to  him  in  the  order  of  nature,  filled  as 
it  might  well  have  been  with  sorrows  and  trials  and  disappoint- 
ments, and  which  in  any  event  would  have  terminated  long  be- 
fore this  morning — on  that  day  he  exchanged  for  that  fragment 
of  mortal  life  the  lasting  fame,  which  this  monument  will  make 
perpetual. 

We,  therefore,  salute  thee,  thou  stately  shade,  who,  we  fain 
would  believe  dost  move  invisible  across  this  scene;  we  salute 
thee  not  only  with  honor,  but  with  felicitations,  thou  brave  and 
gallant  soldier,  thou  true  and  knightly  gentleman,  thou  of  the 
generous  heart,  thou  of  the  dauntless  spirit,  who  didst  fall  on 
this  spot,  which  we  can  only  mark  but  thou  didst  consecrate. 


INSCRIPTION 

Written  for  the  Georgia  Monument  on  the  Battlefield  ol  Chickamauga: 


To  the  lasting  Memory  and  perpetual  Glory 

Of  all  her  Sons,  who  fought  on  this  Field, 

Those  who  fought  and  lived  and  those  who  fought  and  died, 
Those  who  gave  Much  and  those  who  gave  ALL 

GEORGIA 

Erects  this  Monument. 

Around  it  sleep  Slayer  and  SI  am 

All  brave,  all  sinking  to  rest 
Convinced  of  Duty  done. 

Glorious  Battle!  Blessed  Peace! 

Th  is  Monument  stands  for  both  of  these — Glory  and  Peace; 

For  this  Memorial  of  her  soldiers’  valor 
Georgia  places  on  a foundation,  laid  for  it, 

In  this  day  of  Reconciliation, 

By  those  gainst  whom  they  fought. 

Glory  and  Peace  encamp  about  this  stately  Shaft! 

Glory  perennial  as  Chickamauga's  flow, 
Peace  everlasting  as  yon  Lookout  Mountain! 


Only  the  first  six  lines  (with  the  words  “and  perpetual 
omitted)  are  actually  inscribed  on  the  Monument. 


Glory” 


i 


date  Due 


FORM  335  40 M 9-42 


